Tag: Jason Isbell

Get Off Your Ass: December’s Halls Need Deckin’

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Gary Clark, Jr. // The Theatre At Ace Hotel // December 1

Corb Lund // Resident  // December 7

The Wild Reeds // Echoplex // December 8

Lee Ann Womack // The Canyon // December 9

The Steel Wheels // Genghis Cohen // December 10

Tribute to Linda Ronstadt // The Theatre At Ace Hotel // December 11

Michael Kiwanuka // The Fonda // December 12

Sara Watkins // The Troubadour // December 14

Brothers Osborne // The Belasco Theater // December 15

The Dustbowl Revival // The Hi Hat // December 15

Cody Jinks // 3rd & Lindsley // December 2-3

Ruby Amanfu & Friends // 3rd & Lindsley // December 4

Billy Strings // The 5 Spot // December 7

Birds of Chicago & Michaela Anne // The Basement // December 7

Mary Gauthier // Bluebird Café // December 8

Shawn Colvin // City Winery // December 14

Brent Cobb // The Basement East // December 15

Luke Bell // Exit/In // December 15

Gillian Welch // Ryman Auditorium // December 27

Robert Earl Keen // Ryman Auditorium // December 28

Jason Isbell, John Prine, & Kacey Musgraves // Grand Ole Opry House // December 31

Old Crow Medicine Show & Dom Flemons // Ryman Auditorium // December 31

Andra Day // PlayStation Theater  // December 1

Donovan // Symphony Space // December 2

Chris Thile // Town Hall // December 3

Steve Earle // City Winery // December 5

Kacey Musgraves // Town Hall // December 8

Cris Jacobs // Brooklyn Bowl // December 9

Steep Canyon Rangers // Town Hall // December 10

The Stray Birds // Rockwood Music Hall // December 15

Albatross // Rockwood Music Hall // December 16

Anais Mitchell // Rubin Museum of Art  // December 23

Tony Trischka // Joe's Pub // December 24

Nathan Bowles // Terminal 5 // December 28

LISTEN: Blackie and the Rodeo Kings, ‘Land of the Living’

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Artist: Blackie and the Rodeo Kings (featuring Jason Isbell)
Hometown: Hamilton, Ontario
Song: “Land of the Living"
Album: Kings and Kings
Release Date: January 13, 2017
Label: File Under: Music

In Their Words: "We are the warriors, the Pilgrims, the Migrant Workers, and the Hopeful who are out there discovering the bravery that lives in day-to-day North America. Lost on the land where we charge out into the darkness and race past the headlights of the drunk drivers who killed Johnny Horton and Clarence White. We feel the legends of the land all around. We pass through time and visit the shrines. We crawl through the dirt, overturning rocks, looking for the nails that were used to hang our heroes to their crosses. Across the fields of long forgotten hymns to the land of the living." — Tom Wilson

Photo credit: Mark Maryanovich

MIXTAPE: Patterson Hood’s Americana 101

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Americana was a name that used to trouble me when it first came into semi-vogue in the late 1990s. I didn’t really like alt-country, either. So many people tended to love the music and hate the various names for the genre that the original No Depression magazine even poked fun at that on their nameplate. That said, it was probably the most exciting sub-genre of its time and has had a quite impressive afterlife, growing to actually be a somewhat mainstream way for a wide variety of excellent artists to be marketed to an increasingly larger audience.

My playlist leans heavy on the turn of the (last) century’s roots of this genre, but I also hope to incorporate a little of the more interesting current songs and maybe a couple that pre-date the movement that are excellent examples of its origin. — Patterson Hood, Drive-By Truckers

Son Volt — “Windfall” (from Trace, 1995)

Probably the one song that best exemplifies and encapsulates everything that is great about this genre in three glorious minutes of musical confection that is so good it set up a blueprint for a genre and transcends most everything that followed that path.

Lucinda Williams — “Drunken Angel” (from Car Wheels on a Gravel Road, 1998)

Lucinda’s long-delayed Car Wheels on a Gravel Road survived its troubled gestation to become one of the genres first breakout hits and turned her into a bonafide star, winning Grammys and a life-long following along the way. Picking one song from this album was hard, but to me, the best of all was this ode to the life and untimely death of Austin Texas singer/songwriter Blaze Foley. Stunning.

Merle Haggard — “If I Could Only Fly” (from If I Could Only Fly, 2000)

Merle predates anything else in the Americana genre, but his music defined the best that it had to offer. By 2000, country music had moved in a much more mainstream direction, and Merle found a new following among the disaffected punks and roots rockers that alt-country drew and that he continued to inspire. ANTI- Records seized this opportunity, and gave Merle the chance to make exactly the kind of album that mainstream country wouldn’t. He rose to the occasion with this masterpiece. Merle was, himself, one of the best songwriters of all time, but for this compilation, I chose his cover of Blaze Foley’s masterful song that Merle loved enough to make the title cut of his “comeback” album.

The Silos — “I’m Over You” (from The Silos, 1990)

Although Americana is most widely associated with the late ’90s through the present, it had roots dating back to The Basement Tapes by Bob Dylan and the Band and the tons of incredible albums that it inspired, followed by the cult status of a wonderful band from St. Louis, Missouri, called Uncle Tupelo. However, in the most unlikely of times — the ’80s, which were way better known for new wave and bad drum sounds — R.E.M. and the Silos made records that took the best elements of those sounds and made them their own. The Silos never had near the amount of fame that they deserved, but their records still hold up as among the best albums of their time and beyond.

R.E.M. — “(Don’t Go Back to) Rockville” (from Reckoning, 1984)

Although they are usually better known for their later hit records, this gem from R.E.M.’s second album helped lay out a blueprint for the Americana genre and still holds up as an example of just how wonderful they always were. There’s no overstating what a breath of fresh air this song was to our ears in the mid-80s nor how great it still sounds over 30 years later.

Steve Earle — “Ben McCulloch” (from Train a Comin’, 1995)

Another artist that pre-dated (and probably hated the term) Americana, Steve Earle broke big in the ’80s with his debut album, Guitar Town, before descending into a haze of addiction and even jail time. Upon his release from jail, he laid the groundwork for his comeback with this stripped-down collection of excellent songs, none better than this tale of a scared and disgruntled Civil War soldier.

Townes Van Zandt — “Waiting ‘Round to Die” (from Live at the Old Quarter, 1977)

Although mostly pre-dating the term Americana, no one better represented all that was great about it than Townes. Steve Earle once famously said that Townes was the greatest songwriter in the world and that he would stand on Dylan’s coffee table and shout it out anytime. I imagine that that quote has out lived its intention, but this song shows a little bit of what Mr. Earle so grandly stated. This version — and the live album that it comes from — is a great introduction to the majesty of Townes’s songwriting and the power of song in general.

Gillian Welch — “Revelator” (from Time (The Revelator), 2003)

Gillian sprung from the mid-90s Americana scene and was further propelled by the success of the Coen Brother’s 2000 film O Brother, Where Art Thou? and its breakthrough soundtrack. Then she suffered a backlash from people accusing her of being a retro-novelty act. She fired back with this shape-shifting and time-traveling masterpiece that condenses a history of folk and blues into her personal here and now and, at the same time, takes two acoustic guitars and two singers and somehow, without a hint of shouting, manages to rock like Zeppelin and Crazy Horse. Over a decade later, I’m still in love with every song on this album, but this one seems to be the one that best encapsulates it all.

Wilco — “California Stars” (from the Billy Bragg and Wilco album Mermaid Avenue, 1998)

When Uncle Tupelo broke apart in the early ’90s, the two principles formed Son Volt and Wilco. Although initially considered the lesser of the two, Wilco has gone on to become one of the foremost bands of the last 20 or so years creating an eclectic body of work that still manages to challenge and surprise each time out. In 1998, Wilco joined forces with British folk singer Billy Bragg to put music to and perform previously unheard lyrics from Woody Guthrie. The result was two of the best albums of their time. The standout and breakthrough track off this collaboration was “California Stars” — a sublime piece of work that connects several generations of artists and shows the timelessness of great songs.

Centro-matic — “Flashes and Cables” (from Love You Just the Same, 2003)

One of the greatest and definitely most underrated of bands of the last couple of decades, Centro-matic hailed from Denton, Texas, made over a dozen wonderful albums, and toured relentlessly for nearly 20 years before disbanding in 2014. Prolific to a fault, many of those songs sound like mega-hits that somehow forgot to become such. None more than this track from their 2003 masterpiece. I can’t listen to it without visualizing an arena full of fans singing along with the catchy “bye-dee-ahhs” of the finale, a musical hook so relentless and endearing that it frequently soundtracks my dreams.

Jason Isbell — “Elephant” (from Southeastern, 2013)

I first met Jason in 2000, and it was love at first song. He was barely 20 and about to drop out of college, and I was blown away by his talent as a singer, songwriter, and guitar player. A couple of years later, he began a five-year stint playing in my band. By the time he left to pursue his solo career, he was drinking very heavily and his life was spiraling out of control. In 2011, he quit drinking and pulled his life back together, documenting it all in a masterpiece of an album called Southeastern. The standout track (and that’s saying a lot, in itself) is this song about a friend’s struggle with cancer. It’s literally a perfect song.

The Bottle Rockets — “Kerosene” (from The Bottle Rockets, 1993)

Barreling out of Festus, Missouri, in 1993, Bottle Rockets put the pedal to the metal, blasting dive bars across the country like an unholy amalgamation of Skynyrd and Doug Sahm mixing punk smarts and country fury with great songs and a rocking live show. Their literary smarts were never better represented than on this gem from their self-titled debut. “Kerosene” tells the tale of being down-and-out white trash, giving heart, soul, and life to a story that — on the surface — sounds like a laughable headline of Darwinistic stupidity. A trailer fire, told from the grave with simplicity and grace: “If kerosene works, why not gasoline?” Like the best songwriting, what’s said is only a fraction of the story and the real majesty is in what is left untold. One of my all-time favorite songs.

Kelly Hogan and the Pine Valley Cosmonauts — “Papa Was a Rodeo” (from Beneath the Country Underdog, 2000)

Kelly Hogan hailed out of Atlanta, Georgia, was one of the founders of its ill-fated Redneck Underground scene, and was the lead singer in the Jody Grind, who were poised to great success before a tragic van accident that killed two of its members in 1992. Later, Kelly (who was thankfully not in the van at the time) relocated to Chicago, Illinois, where she has enthralled everyone who has ever heard her magnificent voice. She has made several albums as a solo artist, and served as a much in-demand backup singer (Neko Case, the Decemberists, Jakob Dylan). For her second solo album, she was backed up by Jon Langford’s ensemble, Pine Valley Cosmonauts, and here, along with Atlanta crooner Mike Geier, she covered the Magnetic Fields classic and made it her own. Sublime and timeless.

This is just a surface scratcher, but hopefully it will serve as an invitation to delve further into these great artists and so many more. ENJOY!

Photo credit: rkramer62 via Foter.com / CC BY

The 2016 Americana Music Awards Winners

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The 15th annual Americana Music Association Honors & Awards Show happened last night at Nashville’s famed Ryman Auditorium. Led by host Jim Lauderdale, the festivities honored Bob Weir, Shawn Colvin, Billy Bragg, William Bell, and Lauderdale with Lifetime Achievement Awards.

Each of those recipients also performed, along with Rodney Crowell, Steve Earle, Emmylou Harris, Jason Isbell, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Bonnie Raitt, George Strait, Alison Krauss, and quite a many more backed by a Buddy Miller-led house band. Presenters include Jack Ingram, Timothy B. Schmit, Taylor Goldsmith, Wynonna Judd, the Indigo Girls, Bruce Hornsby, and Joe Henry.

Winners are in bold.

Album of the Year
Something More Than Free — Jason Isbell, Produced by Dave Cobb
The Ghosts of Highway 20 — Lucinda Williams, Produced by Greg Leisz, Tom Overby, and Lucinda Williams
The Very Last Day — Parker Millsap, Produced by Parker Millsap and Gary Paczosa
Traveller — Chris Stapleton, Produced by Dave Cobb and Chris Stapleton

Song of the Year
"24 Frames" — Jason Isbell, Written by Jason Isbell
"Dime Store Cowgirl" — Kacey Musgraves, Written by Kacey Musgraves, Luke Laird, and Shane McAnally
"Hands of Time" — Margo Price, Written by Margo Price
"S.O.B." — Nathaniel Rateliff & the Nightsweats, Written by Nathaniel Rateliff

Artist of the Year
Jason Isbell
Bonnie Raitt
Chris Stapleton
Lucinda Williams

Duo/Group of the Year
Alabama Shakes
Emmylou Harris & Rodney Crowell
Lake Street Dive
The Milk Carton Kids
Tedeschi Trucks Band

Emerging Artist of the Year
Leon Bridges
John Moreland
Margo Price
Nathaniel Rateliff & the Night Sweats

Instrumentalist of the Year
Cindy Cashdollar
Stuart Duncan
Jedd Hughes
Sara Watkins

The Color of Thunder: A Conversation with Amanda Shires

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It's hard to describe Amanda Shires, as a person or an artist. There's just something about her that floats above and beyond categorization and calculation. Perhaps it's the poet in her that tilts and colors her worldview into a magical, mystical joyride full of life, love, and the pursuit of happiness. Her last release, Down Fell the Doves, is a staggeringly wonderful collection of songs that attempt to capture and convey that joyride with quirky lyrics and unexpected melodies. This year, Shires follows that work up with My Piece of Land. Produced by Dave Cobb, the beautiful new album was written and recorded right as Shires was gearing up to have her first baby with husband (and, now, co-writer) Jason Isbell. In true Shires fashion, it's brimming with wonder.

So … you had a bunch of songs written, then you killed your laptop.

Yes! How did you remember that?

I don't know. I have this weird Rain Man thing. I just remember stuff. So, what do you think was in there that the world couldn't handle hearing?

[Laughs] There was one little tiny part of something that I had … I had part of “Harmless” from that laptop because I'd printed out an early draft of it. I don't know why, maybe just to look at it differently because I couldn't finish it. That's the only thing I had from that batch.

Hmmm. I always look at these things karmically: There's a reason everything happens. So, for whatever reason, the world wasn't meant to hear those songs.

Maybe they were all rap songs.

Maybe. We'll never know. So you had to press on from there. In the last few months of pregnancy, you started over.

Yeah. I was on the road up until July 5 or 6, flying on planes and traveling that way. I still played some shows around Nashville, but I was at home so much and I like being busy. I ran out of things to do. I did all the things you can think of to prepare for a baby … nesting and cleaning stuff up. I even have posters and stuff in the garage, from that time of making stuff organized. Then, after that, I just started writing. I got five songs or so in, and I called Dave and we scheduled it.

Was it a given that you were going to work with him or did you make him earn it?

[Laughs] I just thought, “I hope he says 'yes.' I hope he has time.” He had both of those things, so I was lucky to have him.

In the middle of all that, you were working on your degree [a master's in creative writing]. Is that all finished up now?

Nope. I'm working on my thesis. I asked for an extension, when I played in Chattanooga, from the stage. [Laughs]

[Laughs] It was granted, I take it.

Yes. They're nice folks over there.

I thought I would have time to finish it all. I didn't know anything about babies. I didn't know they wake up every two hours, then every three hours, and four hours. Now, I'm getting to a place where I'll have time.

Writing poetry and writing songs … the two aren't as interchangeable some, including a certain character on Nashville, might have us believe, right? They are very different forms.

Yeah. Very different. In songwriting, you have the musical setting which helps you dictate what your song's going to be or what mood it's going to be. With poetry, you don't have that. You have just the page. You have to get everything across without music. It's very different. You have waltzes and shuffles and all these kinds of rock 'n' roll songs. Then, poems, you can write in different meters and different structures. The lens is way smaller. The lens is very small with poetry.

That's an interesting way to look at it. Words have rhythms and beats and cadences, but folding in the extra layer of music puts it in a different realm. I feel like many of my favorite songwriters are also poets, whether they started there or not.

There are a lot of elements that are the same, that cross over. Like sonnets and rhyming, although poems also don't have to rhyme. But, in a song, you gotta have some rhymes. You really do. It's important. Especially for memorizing, I guess. Then you have all the other poetical things that go into songs, too, your similes, metaphors, allegories … all that stuff can apply.

I feel like it's songwriter-poets who more often land lines that stop me in my tracks. You have some moments like that, throughout your discography. My favorite on this record is “Your eyes a shade of wonder, like if thunder had a color.” That's crazy!

Awww. Well, that's a high compliment. When you're trying to describe something, it's best to just be yourself and describe it. If I said that in a conversation, people might think it sounded really crazy, like “What are you talking about?! That's not how we're communicating here.” But I can't just sing, in that song, “Kind of greenish, greyish, blueish, purpleish right now.” [Laughs]

[Laughs] “And with a certain hazy light.”

Yeah. And then with the implication of what that color does to you or how that moment kind of rocks you a little bit … like thunder.

Do lines like that catch you off-guard or do you go hunting them? How do those things come for you?

For me, it comes in my mind like a picture. I'm sitting here thinking and trying to describe something. I write everything down and there's a picture that just says it.

Alright. You have a little cosmic thing going on. I like it.

[Laughs] It's like an imagery thing. In my mind, there's an image of this setting. I don't know. It just comes like a poem or picture might look.

I get it. “Pale Fire” lays me down, too. It reminds me a bit of old-school, classic Ani DiFranco. She was a poet and a dancer before she fell into music. I don't know. There's something about that.

That one, I'm really proud of, for a different reason. I have two co-writes on this record — “Pale Fire” is one and “My Love (The Storm)” is the other. Both of those mean something to me because they were successful co-writes with Jason. By “successful,” I mean successful in the fact that we were able to talk about pretty deep things and create something together without either of us suffering. We didn't have to sacrifice anything when we were writing. We both got to communicate the way we wanted to without having to give up too much of our own preferences.

And that is a big deal. You're both great writers, but with different styles.

And, also, we haven't explored that a lot. It was a really good experience. You hear all these horror stories about co-writing.

I love seeing the two of you guys on stage together, seeing your love and your relationship … the dynamic of it. It's also very sweet and special seeing how you guys interact with the world. You're very open, posting photos and what not. It endears you to your fans on such a deep level. He and I have talked about it, but what's your thinking on living out loud in the way you two do?

My thinking is that it's easier to get through the world when you have other people who are sharing their experiences, too, I guess. When you are open, it gives people a chance to know what they're getting into. If you follow me or follow him, more than likely, we have the same views of the world. Then, if you're sharing stuff, it makes the world feel more connected … connected in the bigger sense, like we're all going through all this stuff at the same time.

That's one of the greatest things about social media and why it's been so successful: All any of us want is to be connected.

Yeah. Yeah.

Even if it's in crappy, trolling ways. [Laughs]

[Laughs] Yeah. It's the shared human experience.

Absolutely.

Also, it keeps you from going to a show and getting the kind of people who are there for the wrong reasons. [Laughs]

[Laughs] That was Jason's thing. He wants people coming to his shows to know who he is, to know where the songs are coming from so, like you said, hopefully there's some kinship there.

Yeah. So, when you get into a room and voice your opinions, you're not getting booed at.

Or you still might, but at least it'll be for the right reasons. [Laughs]

[Laughs] Yeah. Exactly.

Even though those are the first songs you guys wrote together, I hear “You Are My Home” as an answer to “Cover Me Up” and “Flagship.” Is that about right?

I don't think it's an answer to it. I mean, it could be taken that way. I can see that. But I feel like that song, for me, being pregnant, I was having to think about a lot of things … like hormones make you do. You have all these joyful things and all this hope. Then you have these dips where you have questions like, “Are we going to make it? Because we need to make it for this child, at least. How does that look? What is 'home' exactly if we're going to be traveling all the time and sometimes not seeing each other?”

Then there's the inherited sense of home that we all have from our own childhoods. It was, in a way, coming to realize that what you've inherited from your childhood is not the same as the home it is that you make for yourself. So, in that song, I wrote it trying to explore what it was I was feeling. And, I guess, realizing that home didn't mean just this place where we live together — the house and the stuff that's in the house. It's the person who, really, is my home … that no matter where we were, where we lived, if we're on the road together or not together, in my mind, my home is with Jason and with Mercy. It doesn't matter where it is. It can be any town. We can call every town our home.

It's a state of mind … or a state of heart, I guess.

Yeah. A state of heart, more accurately, for sure.

So, a year in, what has little Mercy Rose taught you that you didn't know before? Besides the fact that babies don't sleep.

Now, she sleeps from 9:30 pm to 9:30 am. It's awesome! She's been doing that since she was about six months old.

It's given me a fresher outlook on the world. Everything is wonderful to look at. It's psychedelic. You're seeing everything like a psychedelic trip or something. You start looking at the grass again and being amazed by it. We watch her be amazed by her own hands. It's hilarious. It's hilarious and it's gross and it's awesome, all at the same time. [Laughs]

[Laughs] Okay. Last question …

Really?! Already?!

I mean, we can keep yakking …

I didn't even know I answered any.

Yeah. You got a few in there. So, I don't know who Maria is, but she has a couple of scenes in this thing.

She's a real person.

Can we make “some sad Maria” … is that going to be the new “Becky with the good hair”? Can we get that kind of traction on this thing?

[Laughs] Maybe!

[Laughs] I think t-shirts are a must.

[Laughs] That's awesome! I actually need to call Maria and tell her that her name is on the record.

Several times. Girls are going to be trying to kiss her in alleys now.

Oh … that happens sometimes.

Photo credit: Josh Wool

Squared Roots: BJ Barham on the Brilliance of Bruce Springsteen

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Bruce Springsteen. What, really, is there to write about him that hasn't been written thousands of times? (Although this ranking of all his songs is awfully cool!) He's a working-class hero, a thinking-man's poet, an activist-artist, a national treasure, and a songwriter's songwriter with 18 albums and millions of record sales to his credit. Over the past five decades, Springsteen has witnessed and documented in song the American dream — its promise, its realization, and its demise. For that, he can also be credited as an oral historian.

To American Aquarium's BJ Barham, Springsteen is also the greatest ever. Full stop. On his recent solo debut, Rockingham, Barham puts that admiration and influence on full display, working through an Americana song cycle about small-town living with a gruff voice and a simple message.

What is it, for you, that makes Springsteen so great?

Springsteen, for me — and I've argued this with plenty of people — he's simply the greatest American songwriter we've ever seen. [Bob] Dylan's good. I really like Dylan a lot. I really like Tom Petty a lot. Dylan wrote a lot of artsy, abstract stuff, too. Springsteen always writes to the core of America. Springsteen writes songs that 21-year-old hipsters in East Nashville can relate to or, you can play them for my father, and he relates to the same exact verbiage, same exact song. It's timeless. You play Thunder Road, you play Born to Run … you play anything from Born to Run and it could've happened today; it could've happened in the '60s.

There aren't many songwriters that we come across in this business that have that ability. And I'm one of the countless songwriters who spent my entire 20s at the “Church of Springsteen” and am, really, sometimes just doing a pale imitation. Everybody who writes songs about small-town living that comes out and says Springsteen didn't influence their music are liars. [Laughs]

He taught me that you can have a guitar and three chords and tell people stories about where you're from and people will relate to it. There's no greater lesson that I have learned than from Springsteen: Write what you know. He made New Jersey sound romantic. That's how good Bruce Springsteen is. New Jersey is a terrible place. Springsteen is the only guy who can make New Jersey sound appealing or romantic or nice or not a shithole. I can say this because my bass player and my guitar player are both from New Jersey.

Having never been to New Jersey, on my first tour, I made sure to book a gig in Asbury Park. On the way up, I was like, “Man, this is going to be a game-changer. This is going to be life-altering!” Then, you pull up to Asbury Park, New Jersey, and you're like, “What the hell?!” [Laughs] “Did they do nuclear testing here after the Springsteen records came out?! Maybe this is the desolate wasteland that came after the vibrant city he painted picture of …” Then you realize, that's how good Springsteen is. He's such a good writer, he can make New Jersey sound like a hotspot tourist destination.

Being a guy from a small town that's not really desirable in too many different ways, it taught me that you can sing about what you know — sing about things that are close to you — in a way that made it relatable to the rest of the world. On my new record, Rockingham, all of these songs are about my hometown. They are all about a very specific time and place. And I attempted to make these songs so that somebody in Anchorage, Alaska, or somebody in Wichita, Kansas, can hear these songs and put themselves in these characters' shoes. That's what Springsteen taught me, that most of us have the same perspective.

It's interesting what you said about how his old records are still just as relevant today. That's great for him — that he's able to write such timeless pieces. But it's also a little bit sad for us — that there's been very little progress.

Very much so. If Springsteen came around today, he wouldn't exist as Bruce Springsteen. He would've put out his first record, Greetings from Asbury Park, and he would've been dropped from his label immediately because he only sold 100,000 copies. And he might live in obscurity. If Springsteen came out today, he'd be one of the guys who're on the road 200 days a year playing in empty bars singing songs about common people. It was the right place, right time for Springsteen. Luckily, Columbia Records gave him three shots. That's unheard of today.

Well, he was a critical favorite, right out of the gate, some 43 years ago. But, you're right, the big sales didn't come along until later.

Don't get me wrong, by '84 or '85, that man was playing football stadiums — a level of fame, arguably, nobody today really understands … unless you're Beyoncé.

Right. A singer/songwriter doesn't do that.

Nobody walks into Giants Stadium and plays, at the root of it, folk music. Don't get me wrong: He had the bombastic band and, in the '80s, he made the horrible decision to add synthesizers to everything; but, at the base of everything, those are three-chord folk songs. Nebraska is a great example of what Springsteen sounds like in his room just playing an acoustic guitar.

I was just listening to Nebraska and Tom Joad. That's John Moreland. That's Jason Isbell. That's Lori McKenna. Those are the artists making that kind of music today. But, yeah, they are, at best, playing a nice theatre or maybe a small shed.

If you look at some of the outtakes from Nebraska … “Born in the U.S.A.” was supposed to be on Nebraska and there are acoustic versions floating around of demos he did for “Born in the U.S.A.” It's a haunting folk song about the reality of the Vietnam War and what it did to the American psyche. But, if you talk to anybody my age about “Born in the U.S.A.,” it's, “Oh, that's that cheesy Springsteen song.” It's all because of that synth line that makes it danceable and pop-py and sellable. But, when you strip everything away from any of his songs, they're John Moreland, they're Jason Isbell. They're everybody that we look up to today in the Americana scene. Springsteen just put 20 instruments over the top of it to sell it.

But he was a product of his environment. That's what was going on in New Jersey. If you wanted to play on the beach, you had to have a band that made people dance. He learned that, as long as he had the band to make people move, he can sell it mainstream. And he got to sneak in all these amazing poems. The best part about it was, America thought, “This is really catchy.” But they were listening to, in my opinion, the greatest American songwriter ever to write songs.

It's interesting because, I think, those are the people — much like Ronald Reagan trying to use it for a campaign song — they weren't listening. They're listening on the surface to the riff and the chorus, but they weren't actually tuning into it.

And it blows my mind because the first line of that song is such an epic line: “Born down in a dead man's town. The first kick I took was when I hit the ground.” WHAT?! [Laughs]

[Laughs] So do you have a favorite era or album? Or can you not pick?

For me, it's Born to Run. It's eight songs. It's perfect. A 47-minute record. It's funny that my debut is an eight-song, 45-minute record.

[Laughs] Hmmm. That is interesting.

[Laughs] Springsteen taught me that, nowadays, everybody wants to put out 16-song records with a five-song bonus disc, if you get the deluxe edition. Born to Run, arguably one of the best records that will ever be made, in my opinion … eight songs. It's the perfect four songs on each side of vinyl. I can't even get started. “Jungleland” … I still cry.

Every generation has great songwriters. For my generation, Isbell is that … for me. He's playing big theatres. Let's be generous and say he's playing for 3,000 people per theatre. That's one-tenth of what Springsteen was playing. We'll never see anything like what Springsteen was. It was a cultural phenomenon, the fact that America rallied around a songwriter. Beyoncé is lucky to sell out a football stadium now and she had 16 ghostwriters on every one of her songs. Springsteen was a guaranteed sell-out. So, if he booked a football stadium, he might have to book two or three nights because it sold out so quickly. I don't think we'll ever see that again, in our lifetime. It was such a perfect storm.

Looking back, I don't understand how it happened. It's like if John Moreland got famous, or someone you loved in your record collection that you wondered why nobody else knew about them got extraordinarily famous. The closest we have, to me, is Isbell. Knowing him pre-Southeastern and going to one of his shows now and seeing how big it is, it's still not even a speck on what Springsteen was, which is hard to wrap your head around.

For more songwriters admiring songwriters, read our Squared Roots interview with Lori McKenna.

Photo of BJ Barham by Joshua Black Wilkins. Photo of Bruce Springsteen courtesy of the artist.

3×3: Josh Rennie-Hynes on Alanis, Nashville, and Some Rather Questionable Nicknames

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Artist: Josh Rennie-Hynes
Hometown: Woodford, Queensland, Australia
Latest Album: Furthermore
Personal Nicknames: JRH, Joshy, Rennie, Hynesy, J Hizzle, DJ Jrenz (I may have made those last two up.)

 

Raised by Eagles kicking it in Nashville

A photo posted by Josh Rennie-Hynes (@joshrenniehynes) on

What was the first record you ever bought with your own money?
Alanis Morissette, Jagged Little Pill (I think I was 7.)

If money were no object, where would you live and what would you do?
I'd live in Nashville. I just performed at Americana Fest and got to check out the city for the first time, and I loved it. I'd be performing, writing, and earning my crust through music. The plan is to move over there in the next year or two, once I get the next record out. Then I will execute said plan.

If your life were a movie, which songs would be on the soundtrack?
Oh geez, that's hard! It'd sound something like this …
Ryan Adams – "Friends"
Tom Petty – "Time to Move On"
Kingston Trio – "Reverend Mr. Black"
Alanis Morissette – "You Live You Learn"
Bellwether – "Catalina"
The Replacements – "Here Comes a Regular"
New Radicals – "You Got the Music in You"
Bruce Springsteen – "Racing in the Street"
Paul Westerberg – "Good Day"
John Williamson – "Galleries of Pink Galahs"
Everly Brothers – "All I Have to Do Is Dream"

 

I dang well got me some second hand boots in Texas!

A photo posted by Josh Rennie-Hynes (@joshrenniehynes) on

What brand of jeans do you wear?
Cheap ones that I bought in New Zealand — I don't even know the brand. I'm due for a new pair.

What's your go-to karaoke tune?
Currently, it's any song written by Tom Petty. I've been working my way back through his catalogue. Too good!

What's your favorite season?
Autumn. It's always hot where I'm from, so I'm a lover of cooler weather.

 

Chatanooga, you son of a bitch.

A photo posted by Josh Rennie-Hynes (@joshrenniehynes) on

Kimmel or Fallon?
Fallon!

Jason Isbell or Sturgill Simpson?
Isbell! Although they're both amazing in their own right.

Chocolate or vanilla?
Chocolate.

8 Acts We Can’t Wait to See at Bonnaroo

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Summer is here and Bonnaroo is right around the corner … less than a week away, to be exact! In case you missed it, we'll be down at the Farm hosting the best party the Roo's ever seen. Come by the BGS stage on Sunday to catch John Moreland, Sara Watkins, the Wood Brothers, Steep Canyon Rangers, Sam Bush Band, and the BGS Superjam with Ed Helms. 

We'd be remiss if we didn't make the most of the festival and catch as many acts as possible, though, so we're working hard on our schedule. Below are eight acts that we can't wait to see.

Jason Isbell

It's no secret that we're huge Isbell fans here at the BGS, catching his shows whenever we get the chance. For his Bonnaroo set, let's hope he channels his inner Drive-By Trucker and offers up some jam sessions.

Chris Stapleton

While we miss the old days where getting a ticket to see Stapleton wasn't as difficult as getting a ticket to see Hamilton, we're happy for him to finally get his due. If you've never experienced Stapleton's godlike voice in person, now's your chance.

Father John Misty

Who better to watch while surrounded by sweaty hipsters than our greatest satirist of hipster culture? We can only hope FJM serves up some festival-themed commentary along with his thoughtful folk-rock tunes.

Natalie Prass

If Natalie Prass stays true to the arrangements on her excellent 2015 self-titled debut, you should expect one hell of a horn section at her set. As the saying goes, "I need more horns." Or something like that.

Rayland Baxter

Rayland Baxter has long been a fixture of the Nashville music scene, and his 2015 release, Imaginary Man, saw his star rise to higher, more national heights. Catch him while he's on the rise.

Andrew Combs

Nashville singer/songwriter Andrew Combs has earned heaps of acclaim for his thoughtful, throwback country tunes. We look forward to hearing those songs translated to the festival stage.

Dylan LeBlanc

There's no dearth of singer/songwriters performing at Bonnaroo, but you'd be hard-pressed to find one writing better tunes than Dylan LeBlanc. Fresh off some gigs opening for the Alabama Shakes, LeBlanc should be a crowd-pleaser with songs from his latest album, Cautionary Tale.

Aubrie Sellers

Aubrie Sellers is one of our favorite new voices in country music, and we can't wait to see her give tunes from her stellar debut album, New City Blues, the Bonnaroo treatment. And who knows, maybe her mom and fellow BGS fave — Lee Ann Womack — will join her for a song or two before hopping into the BGS Superjam!

Get Off Your Ass: May Is Upon Us

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The Cactus Blossoms // Echo // May 1

Luke Bell // Echoplex // May 1

Jackson Browne // Thousand Oaks Civic Arts Plaza // May 3

Chris Pureka // The Satellite // May 12

John Prine with Jason Isbell and Amanda Shires // Greek Theatre // May 13

Richard Thompson // Teragram Ballroom // May 14

Andrew Bird // The Theatre at Ace Hotel // May 14-15

Joseph Arthur // Troubadour // May 16

Damien Jurado // Troubadour // May 18

Tim O'Brien // McCabe's Guitar Shop // May 22

Petunia & the Vipers // El Cid // May 26

Brett Dennen // El Rey Theatre // May 27

Punch Brothers // Schermerhorn Symphony Center // May 2

Bonnie Raitt // Ryman Auditorium // May 3-4

Charles Bradley // Exit/In // May 4

The Avett Brothers // Bridgestone Arena // May 6

Lucinda Williams // Ryman Auditorium // May 8

Hayes Carll // The Basement East // May 11

Fruition // Exit/In // May 12

Old Crow Medicine Show // Country Music Hall of Fame // May 12-13

Dale Watson // Nashville Palace // May 13

Dylan Fest featuring Jason Isbell, Emmylou Harris, Kacey Musgraves, Holly Williams, Nikki Lane, Rayland Baxter, Ruby Amanfu, Amanda Shires, Cory Chisel, Robert Ellis, and more  // Ryman Auditorium // May 23-24

Billy Joe Shaver // City Winery // May 28

Will Hoge // City Winery // May 29

Carrie Rodriguez // National Sawdust, Brooklyn // May 1

Mary Chapin Carpenter // 92nd Street Y // May 1

Delta Rae // Bowery Ballroom // May 2

Elephant Revival and Ben Sollee // Bowery Ballroom // May 4

M. Ward // Webster Hall // May 4

James Taylor // Carnegie Hall // May 5

Joan Osborne // City Winery // May 8

Loudon Wainwright III and Iris Dement // Tarrytown Music Hall // May 13

Graham Nash // Town Hall // May 14

Parsonsfield // Mercury Lounge // May 20

Lindsay Lou & the Flat Bellys and Ana Egge // Rockwood Music Hall, Stage 2 // May 24

Roosevelt Dime & the Bruce Harris Orchestra // National Sawdust // May 29

Keeping the Door Open: A Conversation with Hayes Carll

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When last the world heard from Hayes Carll, he was stomping and hollering his way through 2011's KMAG YOYO (& Other American Stories). But five years can change a man. Hell, five minutes can change a man who has the heart of a poet that Carll does. That's why, on his new Lovers and Leavers release, he eschews the pomp and circumstance of records past. In their stead, he and producer Joe Henry gently placed honesty and honor, introspection and intention. The result won't rise above a barroom din, but it'll certainly sink into a listener's heart.

Between KMAG and Lovers, a lot has happened in your own life and the world around you. What's the one thing, though, that made the biggest difference in you and your music?

I don't know if there's one thing. I can just say that I changed. [Laughs] A lot happened in a lot of different parts of my life. My personal life had a lot to do with it. My marriage ended. That sort of forced me to take stock of where I was in my life and what was going on, and that influenced everything around me. I turned 40, which felt significant, in a way, in that I'd been living a certain kind of life for a really long time and kind of looked up one day and asked myself, “Is this how I want to live? Is this the kind of artist I want to be?” and just took stock of all that. That all influenced the record that I made.

Outside of that, in the world-at-large, I don't know that it influenced anything that I did, but it feels like people are appreciating an honest, sincere songwriter in a way that … that sounds really boring, but … [Laughs] “I don't know if I want to go to that show. He's honest and sincere. Yuck!” [Laughs]

But there's so much bullshit in the world right now that, when you find something that's a little bit True … capital “t” True …

Yeah. Yeah. Something with some authenticity to it. I do think that goes a long way. And maybe people are responding to it in a way that they haven't of late. I see a lot of writers and singers who are doing really well, and I think people are connecting with how they put their work out into the world.

Jason Isbell pops immediately to mind.

Yeah, absolutely.

Like him on Southeastern, you didn't give yourself a whole lot to hide behind on this one, sonically or lyrically.

That was a real conscious choice. I always had given myself something to hide behind. I always kind of couched my serious moments with humor or with musical pomposity. I never felt comfortable being that exposed. I think it had a lot to do with how I came up playing to crowds … you start out in these bars where, if you didn't get their attention, if you couldn't make them laugh or get them dancing, you didn't get the gig or you got something thrown at you.

So I always had this mix, as a performer and as a writer, that I was aware of both things. I aspired to be Townes [Van Zandt] or [Kris] Kristofferson and be able to capture people in a certain way, but I also felt a real need to make sure that people didn't lose interest. I think I was always a little insecure about whether my words and voice, alone, were enough to keep people there. So I always felt that — whether it was onstage and connecting to them through stories or jokes, or in the music being as super-varied as my limitations would allow.

I've seen you in a few different settings, and a song like “Beaumont” always goes over really well. So I think your fans have been with you on the poet side, as well as on the cowboy side.

Yeah, I've been lucky. I have a pretty broad fan base. I've tried to never pigeon-hole myself. Whether it was playing the Texas country scene or honky-tonks across the country or going over to Europe or playing the listening rooms and folk rooms or working with people outside of my respective genre, I never wanted to feel like, career-wise, that I was stuck somewhere. I always wanted to have options. The job is too cool to go out every night and feel bored or feel like you have to do the same thing every night. So I always wanted to be able to keep that door open.

With this record, I realized that, if I wanted to make a record like this, now was the time … because, if you don't do it and show that side of yourself at some point, then it gets harder and harder for people to accept it. It was where I was at in my life and where I was at creatively, and it just made sense to me. I thought, “Whether anybody likes this or not, it's the record I need to make and it will change where I'm at, and it's reflective of my search for connecting onstage every night and what I want my life to be like.” So, for this moment in time, that was what I needed to do. It feels weird. It feels naked.

The obvious way to look at songs is that they reflect their writer. But you can also turn that lens around, right? Do you sometimes feel like you want to reflect — or maybe even live up to — something you've written?

I think I've, at times, written to a certain audience. I've written mostly just for myself about where I was at, but I've also written individual songs or just a style that I wanted to keep open for myself. I think I've written, at times, for what I wanted my performances to be and what I wanted my career to be.

I love playing honky-tonks. I love having 1,000 people at a rock club going nuts. But I very much value my ability to go play solo in a listening room and have a completely different experience. That's kept me engaged, kept me alive. That's, honestly, how I feel most connected and comfortable as a performer, because I don't need to rely on a bottle of whiskey. I don't need to rely on volume. It's me, a guitar, and these songs. They either hold up or they don't, but I have a much more immediate understanding of whether it's working or not when I'm in a more stripped-down setting.

And to make a record that reflects that … yes, it's emotional and it's creative, but it's also a little bit practical because that's job security, if you know you can always go out and play your songs solo or you know that you can make a pretty simple recording. Those are the records that stand up and become classics for the generations.

A couple of years ago, I realized that, whatever happens — whether I become a big alt-country star or whatever — that I've got a collection of songs and I'll continue to write, and worst case — and it's not all that bad of a case scenario — I can go do house concerts and folk rooms and there will be some group of people that is drawn to that music. I think maybe even more than the financial side, I just wanted to keep that open for myself. And I needed to do it now or it might not ever happen.

I always talked about having a sonically cohesive record that was a songwriter record, that was sparse, and I'd never quite done it. I'd make attempts at it, but then I would cover it up with a joke or some bombastic rock and never just let that stand on its own. I'd always, I guess, been scared to put that out there. Maybe I didn't have faith that that was enough for me, and I needed to prove to myself that it was.

So that's why I'm excited about this record. There's no single on there. It's not going to get any radio play. It's not anything people are going to play at a party. There's nothing to dance to — all these things that I could kind of peg, like, “Okay, I've got that covered and that covered and that covered.” It's sparse and emotional and personal and intimate. But listening to that and not pulling people off in other ways can get you into a headspace, as a listener, that you can't get, necessarily, if you're jumping all over the place. I'm trying to have trust that this can work. So I did it. And, whether anybody likes it or not, I'm proud of the record. That probably doesn't sound like that big a deal to a lot of people, but for me, it was important to be able to take that step, creatively and artistically.

As you were writing, instead of checking off the things you wanted, were you checking in with yourself and checking off the things you didn't want? Like, “Oh, I just habitually took this song there and I need to pull it back.”

I don't know, as I was writing, how conscious I was of that because I wrote a lot of stuff that is completely incompatible with this record. I had a lot of those things that are funny or rocking or even were more subtle but just didn't feel like they were part of this story. There are very few songs I can think of where I sat down and said, “Okay, I'm going to write for this record.” I was just writing.

And they emerged as a group?

Yeah. Themes started showing themselves. I've never been able to sit down and write thematically. I've never had the attention span to stay consistent about it. There were definitely things I was writing about in my life, here, that came out. But there were also songs I'd written before a lot of this happened that sort of fit that narrative and that part of the story, though that was not my goal when I wrote them, initially. But I'd look at them and go, “I thought it was this one thing, but it actually fits really well with what I'm doing here.”

Setting aside music as your own artistic outlet, what role does it play in the Life of Hayes? Friend? Therapist? Pastor?

It's been all of those things — and none of them — at times. It sort of depends when you catch me. Certainly, growing up, it was my teacher, my inspiration. It was my joy. It was this very mystical, foreign thing. I grew up in the suburbs and these people I was listening to, particularly the songwriters — [Bob] Dylan, Kristofferson — they took me to another place, far from where I was, and that was something that I really needed. I struggled to find my identity and an ability to articulate some of the things that I had on my mind. A lot of these guys did all that for me. They gave me some kind of identity. I felt a connection with them. I felt, “These are my people.” And it moved me. I got into Townes. There's music that can affect your life in such a deep and powerful way that everything else seems trivial.

Something I've struggled with a little bit over the years is that I have that connection to writers like that and, then, I have a connection to Chuck Berry and Jimmy Buffett. There are a lot of different elements and that hodgepodge has kind of made up my style, for most of my career. But, yeah, it can turn my day around, for sure, and keep me going.

When I interviewed Lee Ann Womack last year, she commented that sometimes she feels guilty connecting herself to you through recording “Chances Are,” and she thinks, “I hope Hayes doesn't mind that I cut his song.” Various award nominations later, may we assume that you, in fact, do not mind too much?

[Smiles] Yeah, we're talking again now. [Laughs] I was honored that she recorded it.

It's done pretty well for the two of you.

Yeah. To have the life that it's had with the Grammy nominations was completely unexpected for me. It was very cool. It took a lot for it to set in when I got the news. I thought, “Okay. Yeah. Fine.” I had sort of trained myself to not care about these things. I didn't even know when the Grammys were being announced. I had no idea it was a possibility. I have tried to distance myself from needing those things. So, when it happened, I was like, “Oh, yeah. It's no big deal.” Then, as I started getting congratulations from family and friends, and seeing the reaction that this news had on them, I started feeling like, “Oh, this is significant.” And not that it validated me for myself, but it was important to a lot of people who are important to me.

So, anyway, I'm honored that Lee Ann cut it and couldn't have been happier with its life.

So maybe you'll let her have another one at some point?

Yeah. Yeah. Absolutely. I just did a tour with Aubrie [Sellers, Womack's daughter]. Hopefully, Lee Ann and I can play together some day.

I met Lee Ann up in Colorado in Steamboat Springs. There's a little country festival up there. I remember I was sitting in this room, like a suite, and a bunch of my friends were up there playing and picking. I played “Beaumont,” and there was this little person with a hat pulled over, in a chair, legs up in the chair … I had no idea who it was. And she goes, “That's a really cool song.” Or something to that effect. I went, “Thanks … whoever you are …”

[Laughs] “… little hidden troll in a hat.”

[Laughs] Yeah. I didn't put it that way! Then it was, “Hayes, meet Lee Ann.” And we got to do a thing here in Nashville with Sirius XM and [Bobby] Bare, Jr. and Bobby Braddock and Lee Ann, which was super-cool. He played “He Stopped Loving Her Today” and Lee Ann sang “Chances Are.” It was the first time I got to hear it, sitting right next to her.

Photo credit: Jacob Blickenstaff